Promises, Promises
by LadyDivine91
Summary: When Kurt leaves his job at the Spotlight Diner for a paid position at Vogue, Blaine jumps in to fill his shoes. Now, with days till Christmas, Blaine is so consumed by work, he barely spends a moment at home, and Kurt desperately wants to know why. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**Notes:** **Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble 2018 prompts 'pledge/mistletoe'.**

"Look, Blaine! _Mistletoe_!" Kurt sings, trying to pull his fiancé's focus as he rushes to change out of his school clothes into his Spotlight Diner uniform and head out the door. After Isabelle offered Kurt a salaried position as part of her staff at _Vogue_ , Kurt bid a hearty hasta la vista to the food service industry. But for some strange reason, Blaine jumped at the chance to fill his shoes, basically begging Gunther that afternoon for Kurt's old job.

He must have sold Gunther his soul considering the amount of hours he works in a week.

With shifts that start right after he gets out of school and end pretty much right before the next day starts, he's barely ever home.

But Blaine has been living off the interest of his trust fund since he turned twenty-one. Why does he need to work his butt off at a diner for?

"That's … that's great, Kurt," Blaine says without even glancing at it. He hasn't noticed _any_ of the decorations Kurt as put up. He didn't offer to help when Kurt unloaded the boxes, didn't clamor to go with Kurt when he picked up their tree. He doesn't seem excited at all.

It's like he forgot about Christmas.

"Really?" Kurt says. "Because I put it up over a week ago."

"Oh? I didn't?" Blaine pats down his pockets for his keys, his pepper spray, his phone. "I … I'm sure I did."

"No …" Kurt follows Blaine as he does a final walk-thru of their loft, making sure he has everything he'll need before he leaves for work "… you didn't. Because if you _had_ , you would have kissed me under it. And you haven't kissed me more than _hello_ and _good-bye_ in _weeks_!"

"That can't be true," Blaine replies offhandedly, "but we can talk about it tonight." He stops only long enough to give Kurt a kiss on the cheek. "I _promise_."

"No!" Kurt jumps between his fiancé and the door. "We're going to talk about it _now_!"

"But I'm going to be late for work!"

"I don't care!"

" _Kurt_!"

" _Blaine_! We don't need money this much! Not enough to justify the amount you're working! In fact, we've never had _more_ money coming in, and you're acting like we're strapped for cash!"

"Maybe _we_ don't need money, but _I_ do!" Blaine lunges for the door, but Kurt swiftly blocks his path.

"Why?"

"I can't … I can't tell you why!"

Kurt jerks in surprise. He takes a step back. "You can't tell _me_ why? I'm you're _fiancé_ , Blaine! You're supposed to be able to tell me _anything_!"

"And I can …" Blaine moves forward to bridge the gap Kurt created "… but not this."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Kurt presses. "Is there something going on with you financially that you don't want to tell me?"

"No … not _exactly_ …"

"Is it your trust fund?"

"No."

"Taxes?"

"No."

"Is it for your mother? Or you brother? Do they need money?"

"No."

"Well, whatever it is, we'll face it together! I can _help_!"

"I don't _want_ you to help me with this!" Blaine snaps, frustration causing him to raise his voice when he normally wouldn't. "That's the point! I have to do this on my own!"

Kurt, momentarily stunned by the edge in Blaine's voice, crosses his arms and pinches his lips together. "Fine. If you have to do it on your own, then do it on your own. But please, just tell me. Because your constant running out the door without so much as an _I love you_ is beginning to frighten me."

Before Kurt's eyes, Blaine's demeanor changes: his jaw relaxes, his face softens, his arm – outstretched in his attempt to reach the doorknob – drops to his side.

"Oh … oh, Kurt. That's not … I didn't even think. I'm sorry."

Kurt nods. "I accept your apology. But _please_ talk to me. Tell me what's going on with you. Tell me that … that you're not having second thoughts about us, that you're not using this job to put some distance between you and me."

"I would never do that. I …" Blaine sighs. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. To Kurt, it looks like an ad torn from a magazine.

He spends a lot of time around magazines, so he's ninety percent certain that's what it is.

Blaine offers the paper to Kurt. Kurt takes it, unfolding it as Blaine's gaze drops to the floor.

"Is this … an engagement ring?" Kurt asks, astounded by the platinum band on the page beset with a row of glittering diamonds – a far cry from the humble ring Blaine presented Kurt with on the staircase at Dalton Academy so many years ago.

"Yeah. I wanted to get it for you. By Christmas. And I'll have the money I need if I work through Christmas Eve and make it to the jewelry store right before it closes."

"But Blaine, I _have_ an engagement ring," Kurt says, unfolding the ad further and reading the fine print. "One that I _love_. You have to know that. I never take it off!"

"Well, consider this an upgrade."

Kurt gets to the bottom of the page and his eyes blow wide. "Jesus, Blaine! This ring is _ten thousand dollars_!"

"I … I know that."

"How much money do you have already?"

"Around six thousand?" Blaine says sheepishly.

"For six grand, you and I could be spending the winter in Cancun! Or Bora Bora! Wouldn't you enjoy that more than sinking it all into a single piece of jewelry!?"

"No!" Blaine says, his face flushed with embarrassment. "I wouldn't!"

Kurt shakes his head, confused. "Why not?"

"Because an engagement ring is more than just a piece of jewelry, Kurt! It's a _pledge_! It's me telling you that I will love you no matter what, that I will … that I will do _anything_ and _everything_ for you! That come what may, no matter how I feel or how bad we fight or what we say to one another, that I …" Blaine's lips snap shut around the words remaining in his mouth.

"That you … what?"

"That I …" Blaine sniffs, staring at his hands as he tries desperately to put his feelings into words "… I'm never, _ever_ going to hurt you again."

"Blaine, honey …" Kurt puts his arms around his fiancé and holds him "… you've apologized to me a hundred times, and I believe you. If I didn't, would we be here right now, in _our_ loft in New York City, talking about _engagement rings_?"

Kurt feels Blaine shake his head against his shoulder. "No. I guess not."

"Do you think that an expensive ring will make me trust you more than I already do?"

"Kind of."

"Why?"

"Because it … it'll show you how much I love you," Blaine admits, taking the ad from Kurt, folding it up carefully, and putting it back in his pocket. "How much I'm willing to sacrifice to make you happy."

"And that's wonderful, but I don't want this kind of sacrifice – one where you work yourself to death and I never see you. I want us to be _together_. Especially now, at Christmas! And I don't care if you buy me a single present, because there's nothing in the world I want more than I want you."

Blaine peeks up from Kurt's shoulder. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I mean that!" Kurt watches his sullen fiancé smooth down his pocket with the ad tucked inside, his eyes smiling with a grand plan. "And I'll tell you what – if you take my advice, quit this job and use the money you've already earned to take a vacation with me, then I promise that I'll wear _this_ engagement ring …" He wiggles his left ring finger, the silver band on it twinkling in the light "… the entire time."

Blaine tilts his head. "But, wouldn't you be wearing it anyway?"

"Yeah … but that's _all_ I'll be wearing."

Blaine's breath catches. He drops his coat. He stares at Kurt, trying to sense any indication that his fiancé might be joking, and when he sees he isn't, his mind goes crazy with thoughts of Kurt walking down a long stretch of beach without a stitch of clothes on, his pale skin glowing under the sun, the freckles on his face darkening the way they do in summer, paving a path down his neck, across his collarbone, along his flank, between his thighs …

"So …" He clears his throat and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket "… Bora Bora, huh?"


End file.
